Author's Note: My sincere thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story here or elsewhere. I hope you enjoy the ending I always wanted Taz and Up to have. Thank you for everything.

Junior Space-Claw would surely be turning in his slimy, larvae-lined grave if he could see the scene on the deck of Starship 15A2 tonight. Six Starship Rangers didn't quite make a party, and the colonists on board were still in their unexcitable cryofrozen state, so Up had given permission for Bug to invite a number of his kinsmen up to the ship for Tootsie and Megagirl's impromptu wedding celebration. The deck was buzzing, quite literally, with large glittery wings and shiny carapaces in every direction. The happy couple were surrounded by curious insects, listening to the romantic musings of a little purple fellow Bug had introduced to them as Roach. Krayonder was chasing Specs around the dance floor, and February was rubbing noses – did ants have noses? - with her new alien boyfriend in the corner.

It was a happy scene. Full of joy, and life, and love.

Up pulled at the collar of his white dress shirt, feeling uncomfortably warm in the fancy duds February had managed to get the replicator to cough up for him - he'd been starting to get used to his commander's uniform again. He stood to the side and his eyes traced the room, seeking out a red bandana, a Mexican temper, a pair of dark eyes.

Where is she?

He didn't want to do it, but after a few minutes' fruitless searching, he tapped February on the shoulder. "Have you seen Taz? Is she coming tonight?"

February looked confused.

"I mean Phillipa," Up said quickly. "Have you seen Phillipa lately?"

"Oh, Phillipa!" February said, smiling and tickling one of Bug's antennae with her finger. "She had better be coming, it took me long enough to talk her into wearing the dress I replicated for her, and it's just the sweetest thing!"

"Thanks, Feb," Up said, nodding at Bug, who gave him a very large, bulbous wink – could ants wink? Bug was probably the only person in the galaxy – besides Rosie, of course, who knew everything – who knew why he would be looking for Taz tonight.

He left the party deck, and thought about knocking on the door to her room, but his feet took him elsewhere. They knew where she would be.

He was surprised when he entered the gym to find it empty. The punching bags hung still and quiet, the weights untouched on the floor. Then his eyes fell on the illuminated holodeck panel, and a door left slightly ajar. Moonlight, real moonlight, streamed through the crack.

He hesitated, and then crossed the distance to the holodeck. He gave the door a tentative push, and found himself in Mexico.

He knew the place right away. Starlit waves crashed upon white sand and a rocky shore. He could smell the sea, taste the salt in the air. High above him the stark, crumbling ruins of Zama looked on. And there she was, sitting on a tall black rock, hugging her knees, looking out at the ocean. She turned her head at his approach.

Up stopped, several feet from her, and they looked at each other. Her bandana had been discarded for the night and her hair lay flat against her head, making her eyes seem somehow bigger, more vulnerable. A pair of black heels lay forgotten in the sand, but she was wearing February's dress, a simple one in deep purple, its skirt pooled around her, her legs bare and drawn close to her.

He wondered what she saw in him, an old man with a limp and a fake moustache, a man who could only pretend to be tough, a man who was half a robot. The flame of hope that had been alive in his chest since he'd killed those mosquitos flickered a little.

"You asked me," she said, quietly. "When I first came to see you in the hospital again, if I had been happy."

He waited.

"I'd been miserable, on the Bright Eye. I gave you the wrong answer. I said I never had been."

Yes. That had hurt.

She slid down from the rock and stood before him, barefoot in the sand, her eyes downcast. "But I figured it out – I know where I was happy now."

Up thought of her laughter, of chasing her through the waves, collapsing on the sand, her falling asleep in his arms… "Here?"

"Here. At the Academy. On the Cazadora, or Europa. That damned desert moon. Anywhere." She took a breath. "With you."

She looked up then, and he thought his heart might burst, it was beating that fast.

Her voice shook. "But I gave up on you, Up. I gave up on you twice."

She blinked, and looked down again, and he closed the distance between them.

"Taz," he said, wanting to reach for her, wanting to hope, afraid to. "Mi querida. I gave up first. How could I expect you to do what I couldn't?"

"I shouldn't have left you," she said. "I knew it as soon as I was on that dead goddamned ship. I hated myself for being so weak."

Up wanted to chuckle. "You, weak? Never."

She didn't smile, and then he did reach out, to place one hand on each arm. Her skin was soft, hot to the touch of his human fingers. "Hey," he said. "Mírame."

She looked up, slowly, and her eyes found his.

"I knew why you left," he said. "And I understood. But I'd have waited forever for you. Taz, it's - it's always been you and me, right?"

She blinked, rapidly. She was as close to tears as he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry, Up."

He looked at her beautiful face, the one he knew so well, the soldier's mask gone, and just Taz, his Taz, left. And somehow, he found the courage she had tried so hard to tell him he still had.

He bent, and caught her lips softly with his.

It was a question. He drew back, and her eyes were still closed. She opened them, and for a moment, her eyes were all there was.

Then she reached up and pulled him back down.

He was overwhelmed by the sheer force of her, the fire in the way she touched him. She kissed him like she meant it, like she was apologizing for their lost time, for everything, and he responded, wanting her to know that it didn't matter, none of it mattered, that his feelings for her had never changed, they never would, they had been there all along. His hands traced the shape of her back, feeling the three large bumps that would someday fade to scars, ones that would match his own.

"I love you," she gasped against his lips.

He pulled back, ever so slightly. She had never said it before. He tried to find his voice to respond, but it had gotten lost somewhere behind the lump in his throat.

Taz stood on her tiptoes and kissed a tear gently from his face. "Well, don't cry about it, you big idiota. I always have, you know. You must have known."

He kissed her again, his hands in her hair, getting lost in her mouth, her taste, her breath, her small hands on his chest, the shape of her pressed against him. He kissed her until they both were gasping for air. Taz closed her eyes against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, tightly, marvelling that she was his, that she loved him, that she was here, after everything.

"I know I promised you a dance," she said, after a few minutes. "But I don't think I'm ready to go out there yet."

"Well, I suppose you've still got a tough son-of-a-bitch reputation to maintain," Up said. "Even if mine is shot." He stepped back and held out his hand. "Dance with me here?"

There wasn't any music, but they didn't need any. They listened to the waves, to the wind, to the stars, to the sound of each other breathing. They danced slowly, simply, and all Up could think of was her body pressed to his, her face tilted upward, the love he felt for her reflected in her eyes.

The moment was disrupted when she laughed as he tripped spectacularly over a stray rock, taking them both tumbling into the sand.

"You'd think that after all these lessons we would have figured out how to dance by now," he said, a bit ruefully, rubbing his side as she rolled over, still laughing.

"I think we're getting there," she said, bending over him with that smile he loved.

And then everything was Taz, and her kiss on the moonlit sand, and Up knew that she was right.